A RUNNING MESShttp://www.arunningmess.com
RUNNING AND OTHER LIFE MUSINGSFri, 09 Feb 2018 14:00:41 +0000en-UShourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=4.9.4https://i2.wp.com/www.arunningmess.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/cropped-Site-logo.jpg?fit=32%2C32A RUNNING MESShttp://www.arunningmess.com
3232Sean O’Brien 50K 2018http://www.arunningmess.com/2018/02/09/sean-obrien-50k-2018/
http://www.arunningmess.com/2018/02/09/sean-obrien-50k-2018/#commentsFri, 09 Feb 2018 14:00:41 +0000http://www.arunningmess.com/?p=4429The Monday before the race, I was still registered for the Sean O’Brien 50 Mile. I knew it was in my best interest to dip my body down to the 50K distance but the ego kept talking to me!

Oh just go for the 50 miles.

You know you want to.

You’re trained. Well, somewhat.

But those last couple of cutoffs were deterring me from going ahead with the 50 miler. That final cutoff time particularly scared me.

Ego: Do the thing that scares you.

Umm, I don’t think the ego remembers the 50K race all that much because it’s pretty darn scary as it is. Once I casted that ego aside, I made the switch officially to the 50K, and it was one of the smartest decisions I made in a long while.

Race morning was cold. 36 degrees cold which might’ve been a little colder than the start of the Fred Lebow Manhattan Half that I ran last month. However, the temps on this day were expected to get much higher.

When I made my way to the start line I felt ready. My body felt ready for 32+ miles. Prior to leaving to NYC, I had my last long back-to-back trail runs of 16 and 20 miles, respectively. Plus, I left January with 133 miles and 18,000 ft of elevation gain. I know I did some work to get ready for this race especially over the last several months.

A couple of miles in we came up to the creek where I needed to decide if I wanted to plow through the water or maneuver my way across the rocks. That’s if water was actually present. It was.

This is the one part of this area that gives me a little anxiety simply because I’ve heard enough stories of people unintentionally falling in. The upside to that was, it was early in the morning and this could possibly keep me cool for the rest of the day (doubtful), and the downside was, it was still fairly cold and I didn’t prepare for hypothermia early in the race. Plus, all my Rungoo could get washed off and helloooo blister city.

Luckily, Keira the race director is one smart lady and harnessed a bungee cord that we could grip onto to cross over the rocks or use as support if you wanted to plow through the water. While everyone took advantage of it to spare wet and soggy shoes and socks, it created a bottleneck effect. I didn’t care. I kinda already gave up the quest to go after the win. As we were all crossing, some guy came barreling through the water with a snarky remark to all of us, “Your feet are gonna dry in an hour!” Thanks for the support and encouragement dude! Hopefully he didn’t get too many blisters.

When I started up the single track Backbone Trail, I got comfortable knowing it was mostly going to be all uphill for the next 5 hours. Oops. I mean 5 miles.

Because I knew it would be a warm day I started to hydrate early and often. I remember reading this article one time that said something like, don’t eat or drink on uphills. Well, when all you’re given is uphill, you don’t really have a choice. I continued to take sips of water every few minutes.

Corral Canyon Aid Station

By the time I reached the first aid station at Corral Canyon (mile 7), I ditched my arm sleeves that became impromptu gloves because my hands were colder than my arms and put them inside my pack. I also filled up my bladder with water and refilled my bottle with CarboPro.

4.5 miles to the next aid station and an area of rocky downhill single track.

About 9 miles in, as a bike rider was passing me, he pointed to the ground and yelled out, “Phone!” I looked down to my right and turns out he wasn’t just yelling out random small technological devices. There was indeed a phone on the side of the trail. Great. What do I do now?

I could’ve just left the phone there and went on my merry way, but I decided to pick it up and add it to the already 20 other things I carried on me. Make room arm sleeves. You’ve got company!

As I started to move again, I thought about what I was going to do with this phone. It had money and a license in the case. Neither of which I inspected. Oh great, not only did I have a phone but somebody’s drivers license! But this could be for a runner who has no idea their phone is missing, or for a hiker who has no idea their phone is missing.

When I reached the next aid station at Latigo, I thought about leaving the phone with one of the volunteers. Here, you deal with this. Not that I didn’t think any of them were trustworthy, but I know I would’ve spent the rest of the race wondering what happened to the phone, and if I should’ve just held onto it and handed it over to Keira to see if it belonged to a runner. As much I didn’t need any additional weight, I decided to keep the phone with me.

When I stopped at the Latigo aid station, I heard a guy tell another runner, “Yeah nobody really ever stops here since it’s 2 miles to the next aid station.”

2 miles?! Yesss! I used the porta potty here and went on my merry way.

The terrain between the Corral, Latigo, and Kanan aid stations, was fairly rocky and technical. I should say much more rocky and technical than I remember my first time at Sean O’Brien. I honestly don’t remember it being that rocky! Of course, I haven’t been here in 4 years and there has been rain and wind and mud that could’ve brought more rocks into that area. Or maybe I blocked that part of the trail out of my memory.

The thing is I don’t run well on rocky technical areas. In fact, I really don’t run much at all because the fear of blowing out my ankles grips me too much. And this wasn’t an area with easy access to reach anybody. I tried to run when I could but I just couldn’t get a good rhythm going. So I surrendered and mostly hiked that portion.

When I arrived at Kanan which was about 13-ish miles, I refilled my bottle and pack with ice and grabbed me a cup of Coca-Cola. As I stood there sipping it, I noticed this gentleman bent over spreading avocado on a tortilla wrap.

I dipped down to look under his cap and said, “Dave? Is that you?”

Dave springs up from his avocado. “Hey!”

Now normally I try to stay away from solid food from the stations because well, my tummy tends to be a delicate little flower when it comes to it and I was doing fine with my liquids, but these wraps looked so good! I couldn’t resist.

I figured the next section had some rocky spots that would force me to go even slower so I could enjoy hiking with my avocado wrap. It was divine. That is, the avocado wrap, not the rocky spots.

Where did all these climbs come from? Ohhh, the last time I did this section which was on New Year’s Day, it was pitch black dark and I never saw them coming! Man, I wish it was pitch black dark again.

With the exception of a few exposed warm sunny areas, this section had some nice shady covering. That’s what I enjoyed most here because I knew when I left this area, there would hardly be any covering at all.

At this point, I started to see many runners from all the distances – minus the marathon since they turned around back at Kanan where I picked up my avocado – coming my way. Once I saw the young woman I was running with earlier (before getting to Latigo and once again at Kanan), I knew I’d be close to the turn around. But I didn’t see her.

When I reached the 50K turnaround I made note of the mileage on my watch. 16.3 miles. I was also looking for the water bottles we were told would be there. No water. Welp. My water needs will need to wait another 2.5 to 2.8 miles.

As I made my way back, I had some nice downhill sections. I overheard the volunteer at the turnaround tell another runner, “going back is much faster.” Hmm, I was flying at times. Or at least semi-gliding.

Because I knew what mileage was at the turnaround, I could let other runners know how close they were to turning around. Usually when someone asks, I have absolutely no clue and feel bad after I told them “oh it’s about half a mile” when in actuality it’s probably more like 3 miles due to the fact I have no sense of distance. And then those people were left cursing my name for the duration of the race. That girl is a HORRIBLE person!

So when I ran into Luisa at mile 17 I could let her know “you’re about three-quarters of a mile to the turnaround” after she asked me, and I didn’t have to feel bad for being enormously wrong about it.

Or when I ran into Tam, who I’m recently more familiar with via Instagram, and know she’s not that far off either.

Smiles with Tam.

After I got through this section, I reached the Kanan aid station and Dave was still there. Unfortunately, all the avocado wraps were all gone. Not that I wanted another one. Okay I probably would’ve taken another one. And now that I think about it, this avocado wrap reminded me of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had at my first SOB!

Anyways, Dave and I chatted for a few minutes after I refilled water, ice, and sipped on some Coca-Cola again. At this point, I was starting to get tired. I mean, getting tired is expected, but I was beginning to feel more aware of how tired I was. In fact, back at mile 18 I started to feel a low in the race, not knowing how low I was about to go.

When I left Kanan, I was about 19-something miles in and looking for the escalator to get me up the steep rocky section. It was nowhere to be found.

There were 2 miles to Latigo. It was in this section I started to feel a little nauseous. I kept sipping water trying to figure out where this was coming from. The entire race up to this point I actually felt really good.

Was it the Coca-Cola? Was it the tasty avocado wrap? Was it the watermelon pieces? Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, I ate a couple of pieces of watermelon at Kanan. Or was I simply not drinking enough water or taking in enough salt? I thought I was.

I reached Latigo again and asked if they had ginger ale. Luckily, they found a small bottle. Just. For. Me. Oh alright, it wasn’t.

“Do you have a cup?”

“Oh yes I do.” I almost forgot about my cup! This was a cupless race and we needed to bring our own cup. I honestly don’t mind because it cuts down on waste.

I also looked over and saw a couple of chairs. I was so tempted to sit down but I refrained. For one, these may not have been chairs for sweaty dirty runners and I didn’t want to sweat up someone’s lovely chair. And then the volunteer asked the sweaty dirty guy who just came rolling in if he wanted to sit down because he looked as if he really needed a moment to sit down. He sat down.

I was going to continue standing there to finish my ginger ale and then it suddenly dawned on me, THIS IS MY OWN CUP DAMMIT! I DON’T HAVE TO STAND HERE AND WAIT TO FINISH MY GINGER ALE SO I CAN THROW MY CUP AWAY! IT’S MY OWN CUP. I’M TAKING IT WITH ME!!!

Cheers!

So off I went. Slowly.

Here is when the wheels fell off.

Soon after leaving the aid station, I finished my ginger ale, and the nausea returned. When I flew to New York I packed some ginger candy in my carry-on because I tend to get nauseous when turbulence is really bad. I’ve never had this candy before prior to this trip, but I heard it would be helpful so I bought some. Side note: I actually didn’t need it when I flew into Newark but I did on my return because there was bad turbulence.

Anyways, as I was tossing everything but the kitchen sink into my hydration pack, I decided to add a few pieces of this ginger candy and it was at this moment I decided to suck on a piece.

Unfortunately, I hit a stretch that was particularly steep, and particularly hot, and at this point, I was tired and nauseous. I didn’t feel good. And I was hitting 30-minute miles. Yes. 30 minutes to go a mile. I was so slow it looked as if I was just standing there.

In fact, at one point, I did just stand there for a moment and assess where I was.

How much would it cost to get airlifted out of here?

Hmm, I heard it costs somewhere around $5,000. Do I have an extra five-grand lying around?

Turns out, I didn’t. Maybe I should’ve checked to see exactly how much money was in that phone case. Oh I’m kidding. So the only way out of that portion is to keep moving.

Welcome to the death march portion of the race! And the most difficult portion of the race for me thus far.

That section between Latigo to Corral on the return was just brutal for me.

All I did was try to keep focusing on getting to Corral Canyon, which is the last aid station before the finish. But it was still 3 to 3.5 miles away. An eternity with the pace I was having. But my stomach wouldn’t settle down. I kept trying to take sips of water but I didn’t want to drink anything even though deep down I know it’d help.

During this time, some guy who was running along the course checking on runners and offering support, came upon me and asked me how I was doing.

“I’m tired.”

“Well that’s understandable. You should feel tired.”

He helped take my mind off how I was actually feeling: sick.

I took in my second ginger candy and every time I did, the nausea went away long enough for me to take advantage of some runnable sections.

There was nothing more in the world that I wanted in this moment then to be done with this section. I got pretty low here and started to talk to myself: I’m retiring from ultras after this year. I’m not built for these races. I’m horrible at them. I suck. This is awful. Thank yousweet baby Jesus, for granting me some good sense to drop down to the 50K!

One thing that kept me going was the fact that once I reached Corral, I’d only have 7 miles to the finish line, and it’s mostly downhill.

But there was still plenty of uphill to be had before reaching Corral. However, when I started to hear the rumblings of the aid station, it was a marvelous sound.

When I reached Corral for the final time, I immediately got spritzed with water, and then I got doused with it. It felt so glorious because it was so hot! I don’t believe it got into the 100s but it was definitely in the 80s and some parts, most likely in the 90s.

A gentleman came up to me and asked me what I needed and I asked if they had ginger ale. They did. As he went over to get some, I saw that he grabbed a reuseable cup.

“Oh, I have my own cup.” A few seconds later, I had my cup filled with ice cold ginger ale.

As I stood there under the shaded tent, I decided to eat a couple of small pieces of watermelon and then afterwards thought, hmm maybe the watermelon did me in and made me nauseous.

I think I was simply dehydrated. Even though I continued to take sips of water early and often, it wasn’t enough, and the heat was more than I thought it was going to be and eventually caught up with me. And badly.

Another runner at the aid station told me the sun will be going down soon. I knew this. I was already well aware of this and the fact I didn’t bring a headlamp with me because I honestly felt going into this race I wasn’t going to need it. But that’s how these races go, you never know what could happen. You can have horrible training and churn out a perfect race, and then you can have impeccable training and your race turns into a shitstorm.

Before leaving Corral, I talked to fellow ultrarunner Jennifer and went over to say hi to UltraMama, Nancy. I filled up with a little more ginger ale and headed out with my own cup to finish this race.

Once I finished the ginger ale, I put my cup away and the nausea returned. I felt awful and there was more uphill to be had. In fact, another slow death march up the rock formations.

As I was making my way up the trail, I came across another runner.

“How you doing?”

“Hurting,” he replied.

I couldn’t tell if he was in the 100K or 50 Mile but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t alone. There were many people struggling with their issues this day, including me. This is a tough race, and tough courses in each of the distances no matter if you do the marathon or 100K, or 50 Mile, or 50K.

Once I left Corral I started to hear something very faint, like music of some sort. I ignored it. I heard it again. I turned around and nobody was there. There it was again. Maybe this hurting guy had some music playing. Again! Maybe it was a runner or hiker somewhere in the distance. It kept following me. Even when nobody was around I could hear something. Am I going crazy? Or hallucinating? What is that noise? And then, I reached my hands behind me and lifted up my hydration pack. THE PHONE!!!

The ringer kept going off because someone was calling! Who is calling? I don’t know. Could’ve been the person who owns the phone, or it could be that person’s worried friends and family wondering why they haven’t heard from them in 9 hours.

I didn’t answer and if I did, I probably would’ve said something along the lines of, “Sorry I can’t talk because I’m in the midst of a race and I’d really like to finish before it’s pitch black dark and the mountain lions come out to gnaw on my tired dehydrated body and I’m pretty sure I’m losing a few toenails as we speak but it probably doesn’t really matter since the mountains will probably get me first. Someone will have to call you back later. Thanks!”

But that would’ve expended too much energy and I was in no mood to talk.

In fact, somewhere around mile 31 I could feel my eyes well up with tears and I couldn’t stop them. Where was this crying stemming from? Disappointment? Pain? Tiredness? Maybe it’s because all this late downhill is both a blessing and a curse because my legs and feet were being pounded. Maybe the tears were from all of it and I needed to surrender and release them all.

But that’s how these ultras are. Like life, there are struggles and challenges and you have to work your way through them. Not finishing this race wasn’t an option, unless I was severely sick or injured, but that wasn’t the case. My body wasn’t in a state of shutting down. I could keep going, and I did.

I had plenty of time to finish this race and my only hinderance was trying to beat the sun because time wasn’t on my side at this point. But at least I wasn’t fighting time cutoffs like I would have been doing had I stayed in the 50 Mile race. I may have already DNF’d at this point if that was the case.

It’s when you’re in breakdown mode is when you have to find your strength and fight your way out. So, I reminded myself that this is simply a race, and my first ultra in 10 months, and one race of hopefully many this year. And with that, the tears stopped as quickly as they started.

It’s almost a training run for what’s ahead, and if things don’t go badly, how will I ever learn? Not that I’m asking for things to turn sour. But it’s during races like these when I figure out what I need to focus on and work on to improve as a runner, and ultrarunner at that. You learn more from the races that don’t go your way, then you do from the ones that are perfect.

When I reached the creek, I couldn’t decide whether to plow through the water or use the cord to maneuver across the rocks. Déjà vu. Because the sun was going down, I decided to use the cord to cross over the rocks because it’s getting chilly and I didn’t bring an extra set of shoes. In this case, there would be no way my shoes would’ve dried in an hour.

Now all that awaited me was the Spur Trail, also known as, the “little angry chihuahua” section (at least I call it the little angry chihuahua, some people just call it angry, or little, or maybe just chihuahua) and it’s about a mile to the finish.

I still didn’t feel well, but when I reached the top of the “chihuahua” it was all downhill and I was going run it no matter how I felt.

I ran and didn’t stop. I turned the corner and saw my family waiting for me. By the time I reached the finish line, it was dark, but not enough where I needed a headlamp. Thank goodness.

I received my awesome medal from a wonderful volunteer and then I quickly realized I didn’t beat my first SOB time which disappointed me. For a moment.

Right then, my friend Mitch came over and congratulated me and it was such a wonderful pleasant surprise! It truly was. Thank you Mitch!

My family came over and I needed those hugs, and then I found Keira to give her the phone.

I needed to sit for a bit so my stomach can settle down before getting in the car. As I was sitting there I saw some guy come up to Keira and she pointed over to me. Uh oh. What did I do now?

This cute young guy (even in the dark I could tell he was cute and young) approached me and asked if I was the one who had the phone. Turns out Ian was volunteering at Latigo and while he was running there, he fell and his phone bounced out of his bag. So had I decided to drop off the phone at Latigo like I was considering, it’s possible he could’ve been the person I dropped it off to! Now that would’ve been something! Maybe I should’ve inspected the photo on the drivers license.

Now you might ask, how in the world did he know that I’d be there at that moment? Well, after his volunteering shift, he went home and was able to track his phone via Google.

“So, you knew where I was, and the phone was, along the course?”

“Yeah. In fact I just got here 30 seconds before you arrived.” Oh great. He knows my splits.

Okay I would’ve freaked out not knowing where my phone was, but this guy was cool as a cucumber because he knew his phone was making its way back to the finish line. Slowly. Oh so slowly. I’m just glad the phone got back to it’s rightful owner.

Now, I said I was disappointed in my time, at first, but then I assessed again what I was dealing with. And my disappointment quickly turned into feeling proud of what I was able to fight through and finish. It was definitely quite a day out on the trails.

After 33.3 miles and 6,711 feet of elevation again and similar loss, this Sean O’Brien 50K was officially in the books. Yeah, I’ll be back and I won’t wait 4 years to return.

Thanks for reading!

Thank you to Keira Henninger, and all her fantastic volunteers, and aid stations for their amazing support and encouragement! And thank you to my family, and to Dave and Mitch, and to Nancy for the hug at the final Corral aid station, and to trail friends who experienced this day with me, and everyone who told me “good job or nice work” along the course, and to the bike rider for pointing out the phone, and to the guy who ran with me as I struggled between Latigo and Corral, and to Ian for tracking his phone on Google and who may have been the person calling and giving me music those last few miles.

]]>http://www.arunningmess.com/2018/02/09/sean-obrien-50k-2018/feed/4Fred Lebow Manhattan Half 2018http://www.arunningmess.com/2018/02/06/fred-lebow-manhattan-half-2018/
http://www.arunningmess.com/2018/02/06/fred-lebow-manhattan-half-2018/#respondTue, 06 Feb 2018 14:00:24 +0000http://www.arunningmess.com/?p=4398My travel plans to New York City had already been set when I ventured over to the NYRR website to see what races they had going on during the time I’d be there. When I initially checked, nothing was set, but based on the 2017 date, I thought that maybe, just maybe, the Fred Lebow Manhattan Half would be happening while I was there. As luck would have it, the race was being held the weekend I arrived! Yes!

Now all I had to do was wait and register. Good thing I didn’t wait too long after registration opened to sign up because the race sold out!

I hadn’t been to New York City since 2009. That was the last time I ran the New York City Marathon so the trip was long overdue. The stars were aligning and things were working out so my family packed our bags and headed east.

We arrived on a Friday morning to bone-chilling temps at 25 degrees Fahrenheit. For us Californians, we were freezing. We were semi-prepared, but that chill really cuts through your bones when you’re not used it.

For the most part we had loosely-set agenda of things we wanted to do while there. One item listed was the possibility of seeing Springsteen on Broadway. Ok here is a short synopsis of my Springsteen on Broadway journey.

Close. Oh so close. And yet, so far.

When tickets went on sale for the initial run you had to sign up to be a verified fan. I got verified. The day of the tickets were released, I received a code to buy them. Yay. Those things flew faster than you could take a breath. Needless to say, I didn’t get any and wasn’t about to pay $800 for a 2-hour show that I may or may not have been able to go to.

When Bruce decided to extend his run to February, I was put in the Stand-By group. No tickets for me. When he extended his show AGAIN, I got verified. AGAIN. This time I was able to nab tickets. Well, not really. I had tickets for June, but I realized there was no way I was going to be able to head back over during that time due to work and race commitments. Nope, not even for Bruce. So what were my options?

On Friday we walked over to the Walter Kerr Theatre and inquired about day-of tickets. None available. But one option is to wait (everybody form a line) to see if anybody sells back their tickets to the theater. Here’s the ticker though: They don’t normally go for anything less than $500 each. What?!

Now, I LOVE Bruce. And by love I mean, I’m okay with dying before him because if he goes before me, it’s going to wreck me. But $500 for an intimate show with just him? I can’t. I couldn’t! For that price I need me a 4-hour show…with the entire band. In fact, for that price, you could get yourself three 4-hour shows with the entire band. That’s 12 hours with “the heart-stopping, house-rocking, earth-quaking, Viagra-taking, booty-shaking, Legendary E Street Band.” The other option was to put my name in the lottery hat for $75 tickets which I didn’t get either.

So we took our sad faces over to the Brooks Atkinson Theater and inquired with Waitress: The Musical and scored big time! Sad faces switched over the ecstatic happy faces! Not only did we got tickets to see Sara Bareilles in the show, but Jason Mraz was performing with her! In fact, I was bummed when I heard his run was ending just before we were set to arrive, but again as luck would have it, he extended his stay! The show was amazing and it capped off our visit the following week!

Okay now onto the race stuff. That Friday we arrived, we also went over to the NYRR Run Center where we picked up our bib and souvenir hat for the Fred Lebow Manhattan Half!

Sunday morning was the race and both my sister and I were participating. It would be our first race of 2018 and her first race in close to 3 years. This was actually my first half marathon in gosh let me see *counts on fingers* three-and-a-half years. And that was a trail half marathon and I sprained my ankle during it. All I could hope for was the same thing didn’t happen to me here.

The weather at the start was somewhere in the 40s. Quite chilly. Again, not something I’m used to running in these days.

We ventured over to use the porta potties where the line moved swiftly and steadily. However, our potties didn’t have any hand sanitizer in them. Ew. As we were walking towards the starting area we were thinking of just washing our hands with the freezing cold water. But we saw some girl standing there putting something on her hands.

“Is that hand sanitizer?” I asked her.

“Yes it is,” she replied.

“Is it possible we could use some? The porta potty didn’t have any.”

“Sure.”

I tell ya, the Universe always provides! Thank you to that girl for being kind and generous. I hope she got a PR that day.

When the race got under way, I decided to start my GPS. Every step counts and I ended up with 13.7 miles on my watch and probably another 2 miles off my watch after the race. Not a bad mileage day in New York City.

As we moved down the path my legs and body still felt cold. Even after walking and stretching and warming up, my legs still felt cold.

Because there were so many people (estimated around 5,000 participants), the front leaders were already making their way back around and we were told to start running before we even got to the start line. Run, run, run people! Even if you plan on walking a bit. Ruuuuun!

So I started to run. My legs felt so cold and stiff. Running up the hills I felt them start to burn. But not enough where they warmed up. They were cold. I was cold. I wore my buff to protect my lungs a bit from breathing in the cold air. When was I going to warm up???

The course was about two-and-a-half loops in Central Park and I was excited to see parts of the park I haven’t run in before.

The first loop, well, I was mostly cold and I don’t believe I started to actually warm up until a few miles in.

There was one “big” hill between miles 4 and 5 and 8 and 9. It’s the same hill.

Other than running with my handheld water bottle filled with CarboPro and a few pieces of Run Gum, I didn’t have any other fuel. It was this and water.

I ran mostly with ease since I didn’t want to burn my legs out too much from the paved road. In all honesty, I didn’t run any long road runs since I’ve been focused on training for Sean O’Brien on the trails.

During the second loop, I spotted Fred Lebow! I missed him the during the first loop, but got to see him again on the third and final pass and that time he had a medal draped around his neck.

I took a quick photo and realized I didn’t take many photos at all during the race. Mostly I looked around and took in the atmosphere; admiring the beautiful landscape and architecture of the nearby buildings. Not to mention the beauty of the park itself. I was having such a great time.

On the final loop, I saw this awesome young lady handing out fist bumps to runners, and yes I had to get one.

Thank you for the encouragement!

When I finished the race, I waiting for my sis to come in. As I waited, I decided to walk down and meet her on her final loop, and after she finished, we both said how much we enjoyed this race and would want to do it again! It really was a great race and we both absolutely loved the medal and beanie cap! Not sure if I’ll be able to wear the hat much in LA, but I surely enjoyed wearing it in New York City. In fact, I wore that hat as often as I could while I was there in the city. Nobody could pry it off my cold California head.

Thank you to Peter Ciaccia, the New York Road Runners, and all the wonderful staff and volunteers who helped put this race on!

And thank you for reading!

]]>http://www.arunningmess.com/2018/02/06/fred-lebow-manhattan-half-2018/feed/0A Short Deconstruction Of My Goalshttp://www.arunningmess.com/2018/01/16/a-short-deconstruction-of-my-goals/
http://www.arunningmess.com/2018/01/16/a-short-deconstruction-of-my-goals/#respondTue, 16 Jan 2018 14:00:23 +0000http://www.arunningmess.com/?p=4368I was all prepared to compile this long list of goals for the year and then I started to think about them, I mean really think about them and turns out I basically have two:

1. Finish every race I start.

2. Don’t get injured.

Yes, finish every race I start, so it also includes that 100 miler I have my eye on. Also, “start” is the operative word here. If I don’t start a race, how will I ever finish it eh? And If I’m not injured, chances are I’ll start each race, right? I like the sound of this.

That’s it. Do I even need any more goals than that? Of course I do!

However, I’m not ready to set any in hard stone just yet because as I’ve learned in the past, my goals tend to become more fluid and flexible as the year progresses. But I’ll share them as they pop up because I tend to make them up as I go along.

Recently, I reached my goal of hitting 10,000 feet of elevation gain in a single week! I say “finally” because I marked it down sometime in late summer/early fall, I guess about the time I registered for Sean O’Brien. I initially aimed to accomplish it by the end of December, but that didn’t happen. It almost didn’t happen this past week either, but I was able to squeak in a run and get those last 1,300 ft done.

The look of someone who reached a goal. (Hopefully, one of many this year).

The interesting thing is, now that I think about it some more, there really is only ONE goal that can impact every single aspect of running. And I should probably bump it to the top of the list.

Finish every race I start. DON’T GET INJURED.

There, fixed it.

Luckily, (knock on wood) I haven’t had any major injuries in a couple of years that have set me back, and out of running for a long length of time. And yes, I’d love to keep it that way. Who wouldn’t?!

But can all injuries be prevented?

I’d like to say yes, but I think there are some things that pop up we simply don’t understand, or can explain. They happen. And when they do, they suck.

Nobody likes to be taken out of a game they love playing.

With this in mind, I know it’s important for me to work on improving the consistency of strength training, and stretching, and foam rolling, and rest. When I start to deconstruct what entails “not getting injured,” it basically boils down to me working on allof those things.

I have a tendency to engage in these spurts of consistency where I make sure I get my 2 to 3 times of strength training in during the week, and then I go weeks without it. It isn’t until I start to feel some twinge, or tweak that I think, “you know, now would be a good time to kick that up again.” I need to get better with that if I want to have a great running year.

What’s that saying? An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

How true is that?!

Before I sprained my ankle twice in the same year that stopped me from running for quite awhile, I never gave much thought to actually strengthening the ankles, or whatever other areas that support them. I figured all the running I was doing was helping all on its own. Running does help, but it’s only one piece of the prevention puzzle. Afterwards, I needed to implement exercises to help strengthen the areas that were especially weakened by those sprains.

Since then, I’ve rolled my ankles a few times without any serious consequence (Thank God!), and I’d like to think it’s due in part to those measures I’ve taken. Let me just say, it’s soooo much easier spending a few minutes focused on prevention than having to wait weeks to run again.

It’s just making those conscious decisions to put in those few extra minutes into lifting a weight, or rolling on that foam, or working on those planks. But all those ounces start to add up!

If I put a little more time and effort on those aspects to training, everything else will take care of itself. Okay maybe not entirely 100%. But at least that’s my goal.

Thanks for reading!

]]>http://www.arunningmess.com/2018/01/16/a-short-deconstruction-of-my-goals/feed/0One Step Leads To Anotherhttp://www.arunningmess.com/2018/01/05/one-step-leads-to-another/
http://www.arunningmess.com/2018/01/05/one-step-leads-to-another/#commentsFri, 05 Jan 2018 14:00:45 +0000http://www.arunningmess.com/?p=4340Happy New Year! Can you believe 2017 is officially in the books?! A part of me wanted to write up this huge long end-of-year recap but truthfully, there really wasn’t much to recap.

Somehow, I managed to squeak in 1,177 miles for the year which included only one race – Leona Divide 50K in April. It’s amazing how little consistent bites of miles add up and I gotta say I’m surprised I even hit 1,000 miles for the year. Running a mile is a gift so anything above that is a true blessing and I’m thankful for every step.

When I ended 2016, I set my intentions for 2017 to take it easy and take a break. No multiple races. No big mileage. I wasn’t even planning on doing any races at all. While 2016 was called, “The Year of the Ultras,” 2017 was going to be a year of “R and R.” That is, Recovery and Rebuilding. Not sure what 2018 will be called but I sure hope “Epic” is part of it.

For a majority of last year I didn’t have a running plan. I basically ran when I could and ran when I truly felt like it which was still a few times a week.

During the last quarter of the year I became a little more consistent and aware of the mileage I needed to do especially since I had signed up for the Sean O’Brien 50 Mile set for the first weekend in February. There was no possible way of waiting until the year was over to start training for it.

On New Years Day, I met up with a couple of friends to tackle the back half of the 50 mile course which consists of the miles between 13 and 36 of the race. Both Jim and John have done this portion before both as a training run and during Sean O’Brien itself. I have not. This was all new territory for me and it was going to be an extremely important training run because it was going to give me a good sense of where I am and how to proceed.

In the days leading up to the run, physically, I felt pretty good. However, I started to feel a teensy tiny bit nervous. Alright, more than a teensy tiny bit. But I always get nervous before a long day on the trails. Not that a long day is necessarily bad, but the longer time out there, the more there is a possibility something could go wrong, and the more time you may feel horrible and the farther you’re out there, the farther it is for you to get back to where your car is.

Of course, I almost didn’t make it past the first mile as I rolled my left foot on a dark rocky stretch very early on. It didn’t hurt the slightest and it was fine, but that was my cue to retie my shoes.

We made it out of the canyon and onto the open fire road (Zuma Ridge Fire Road) where the 50K runners would turn around. It was the same spot where I turned around when I did the race a few years ago for the first time. Only this time there were no flour markings that said turn around and no jugs of water were stashed along the trail.

We headed up Zuma Ridge into what was quickly becoming a beautiful sunrise with a sky filled with cotton candy clouds. Seeing that sunrise makes waking up at an ungodly hour on New Year’s Day, or any morning for that matter, worth it. Good thing I didn’t stay up all night celebrating, or else, I probably would’ve bailed on this run, but I needed this run. However, I was tired. We were all kind of tired. Little did I know how I tired I was going to become.

Once we hit Buzzards Roost Ranch, there was a good stretch of downhill. When we reached Bonsall Drive which is a site where the aid station would be, we refilled our packs and bottles and from there began the arduous ascent back. I don’t even know how to describe this portion of the course. Tough? Yes. Grueling? Maybe that’s more appropriate.

Tons of single track. Miles and miles of uphill climbing. Slow uphill climbing. Even with a few downhills, there were still close to 8 miles and thousands of feet worth of climbing involved.

A nice piece of downhill came in somewhere in miles 12 or 13 into this run which would be around the half-way mark in the race. We had stopped to take a photo (below) where John proceeded to tell me that particular spot was the pivotal spot and moment of truth where I would decide if I should go forward with the 50 Mile race or dip down to the 50K. I said, I think I’d like to do the 1K.

But that spot wasn’t where I made any decision.

We ran deeper down into the canyon and then had to make our way back up to Buzzards Roost which was about 3 (long slow) miles away.

Must. Get. There.

Once we were around mile 15-ish miles in, we made our way back up. And up and up and up we all went.

Deep in the canyon.

So many thoughts went through my mind at this point and I started to question my life choices such as maybe indulging in all those holiday treats weren’t such a good thing after all. Why did I sign up for this? Core. Work!

It was certainly a strugglefest up the mountain and there were a couple of times I told them, “Ok someone go get the car, I’ll wait here.“ Funny? Maybe. Realistic? No.

We were about 2 hours away from the cars and there was nowhere on the mountain where a car could get me. Believe me, I thought this through.

While this part was difficult, I think it would’ve been a whole lot more difficult for me had I not been doing any hill training or focusing on elevation gain for the past few months. But I must do more, or at least continue to focus on it.

Climbing up those hills there were words that would drift into my head: one step leads to another. No this wasn’t just some motivational push I needed. Earlier in the run, as it usually goes with these runs, songs and lyrics get spoken or sung, and sung badly usually by me. One step leads to another was a play on The Fixx’s song “One Thing Leads To Another.” Anyways I was singing it earlier. Actually, I was singing one step leads to another to the tune of “One Thing Leads to Another,” but those words kept resonating with me every time I turned a corner and saw more uphill. Slowly my feet turned over one after the other.

Towards the end of that section, which was the hardest to complete, I did feel a twinge of nausea creeping up. I wasn’t drinking enough water. For fear of running out, I took intermittent sips. We could’ve used that stash of water jugs when we reached Buzzards Roost about 18 miles into this run. That water sure would’ve been nice right about there.

After all that climbing ended at Buzzards Roost (for the time being), we had a stretch of downhill back to where the 50K turnaround was. The sign said 2.5 miles left to go. I held it at it’s word. It was wrong. Could be I was wrong, but naaah.

Now that I could see where I was, I remembered this area from when I did the 50K race. But I don’t remember it dragging on. It felt seamlessly long. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a lovely area but I was so tired at this point and running extremely low on water that I wanted it to be shorter than what it was.

Almost home.

When I heard those cars zooming by on the road, I knew I was close to the parking lot. Nope. I could see the cars zooming by so I must be close. Nope. Just one more turn and there it is. But nope.

The distance was probably closer to 2.8 miles and when you’re tired and ready to be done like I surely was, the distance between 2.5 and 2.8 feels miles apart.

At the end of this training run and technically, a 50 Mile course preview, I was certainly drained and my body ached and my feet hurt, but I would do this portion again. Absolutely! I’m so grateful I got to see what is on the other side and experience that section of the Sean O’Brien course with Jim and John. We covered over 22 miles and somewhere in the ballpark of 5,300 to 6,000 ft elevation gain (different GPS watches get different readings). But I think I’d rather do this again as a training run and not during the race itself.

Yeah. This means I will most likely dip my body down into the 50K pool.

While there is a part of me that believes I can finish the 50 miles, there is that part of me that doesn’t believe I will finish within those last time cutoffs. And then I wonder, is this just doubt or fear creeping in? Am I unintentionally sabotaging myself and diminishing my abilities? Is this a knee-jerk reaction for having a tough training run? Should I just go for it and not even care about not making the final cutoffs and receive that DNF because my pride or ego told me to?

I am certainly evaluating my goals for the year, and race goals specifically for that matter, and I think the 50K is a much better and smarter option for me at this point. And I feel ready for the 50K. Or at least I will be. This run certainly helped with that.

Thanks for reading!

]]>http://www.arunningmess.com/2018/01/05/one-step-leads-to-another/feed/2When Bad News Is Actually Goodhttp://www.arunningmess.com/2017/12/15/when-bad-news-is-actually-good/
http://www.arunningmess.com/2017/12/15/when-bad-news-is-actually-good/#respondFri, 15 Dec 2017 14:00:44 +0000http://www.arunningmess.com/?p=4319This week I was anxiously awaiting word on whether I was going to be accepted into the Chicago Marathon. After I ran it last year, I knew I wanted to return. But instead of registering as part of a charity like I did in 2016, I opted to partake in the lottery and on October 31st, I threw my name into the hat.

Since then I’ve been toying around with other races I’d like to do in the new year. There are certainly some I’ve done before, and new races that have sprung up that I have my eye on. However, Chicago still remained on the list.

This continued throughout the morning. Every time I received a new email notification, my heart would pound a little bit faster, but it was just Orange Mud telling me that they have last minute holiday gifts, or it was a new Change.org petition that needs my attention.

Once I knew people were receiving notifications of their acceptances, my constant need for checking didn’t stop, and then a few hours later I got the email!

First of all, I’m no newbie when it comes to receiving race lottery notifications and I know that there’s a very good chance I would notice my money gone even before any email reached my inbox. But nope, my money remained untouched.

Secondly, even though I read notifications were being rolled out throughout the day, and I could receive a notice at any part of the entire day, most likely if I didn’t hear anything by mid-morning, I knew I wasn’t in.

As the morning drove on, deep down I knew I wasn’t going to be selected. All I wanted, was the official notice to confirm that. And I got it!

Once I received that email, I honestly couldn’t tell you how joyously ecstatic I felt! There was a sense of, how should I put this, relief.

Yes, I was relieved!

Yeah, bad news is a bit of a bummer and I suppose there was an ounce of feeling bummed, but it didn’t last long. I quickly and graciously accepted the lottery results because I knew it wasn’t meant to be.

Of course, I know if I really wanted to, I could still partake in the race by joining a charity which would most likely be the American Cancer Society because I had such a wonderful experience with them, but I quickly realized something.

I plan on running Javelina Jundred again, and if I run Chicago that same month, I realized I would be recreating October 2016 all over again and I didn’t want deja vu. Been there. Done that.

I want to create a new experience, and new experiences, and quite possibly a different outcome next year. A better outcome!

Had I realized this earlier, maybe I wouldn’t have thrown my name into the lottery hat. However, I was curious and of course, if I was selected I’d be planning my trip back to the Windy City, but I’m so happy I’m not! Chicago just saved me a ton of money on airfare, and hotel, and not to mention food, and transportation, and souvenirs. Not getting selected was honestly in my best interest, and I’m so thankful the Universe had my back on this one. This is a really good thing!

Sometimes we receive disappointing news and get stuck in not getting something we want at that moment, but I gotta tell ya, things really do work out for the best. It may not appear that way at first, but they really do.

I love Chicago and it’s Marathon. It’s by far my favorite marathon and it’s a race that will always be near and dear to my heart. And I’m so happy for those who got in, especially for those who will have Chicago be their first marathon. It’s a good great one!

Eventually, I’d love to run Chicago again, but for now, I’m genuinely okay with waiting a little longer, and signing up for another ultra which will be more local, more miles, and much cheaper. See? I knew things are going to work out for the best.

Thanks for reading!

]]>http://www.arunningmess.com/2017/12/15/when-bad-news-is-actually-good/feed/0My Date With Sean O’Brienhttp://www.arunningmess.com/2017/12/09/my-date-with-sean-obrien/
http://www.arunningmess.com/2017/12/09/my-date-with-sean-obrien/#respondSat, 09 Dec 2017 14:00:04 +0000http://www.arunningmess.com/?p=4173I met Sean O’Brien back on February 1, 2014. Sean O’Brien made me question my sanity for the first time. Sean O’Brien pushed my body harder than it had ever been pushed before, up to that point. Sean O’Brien (almost) made me cry. I think my tear ducts were way too exhausted to even conjure up actual tears. Sean O’Brien was my first 50K finish and since that near soul crushing day, I haven’t returned. But that’s about to change.

With around 6,000 ft of elevation gain and loss, the Sean O’Brien 50K was my rude awakening into the world of ultra running. Technically, it was my second. My first attempt at that distance was on the old Leona Divide 50K course and I believe that was only around 4,000 ft of gain. However, this is only a guesstimate since at that time I wasn’t too concerned about how many hills I was about to climb. Elevation gain? Pfft. Whatever.

And that’s probably why I had such as difficult time at Sean O’Brien.

It’s funny reading my race recap of it and reliving that day. There are parts I don’t remember, and many parts I do. Like that time I was at the final aid station and some guy threw up there. That was interesting. I didn’t mention this in the recap, but I do remember that moment when the volunteer kindly told him, just need to hit the reset button. I also remember asking myself, is this what my running life has come to? Why yes it did!

Well, this time around, I’m preparing for an even ruder awakening because I signed myself up for the 50 Mile distance which garners a gain and loss of around 11,000 ft, give or take.

You could say, I’m a bit nervous about it, but I’m also pretty focused especially knowing the race is in 2 months. Now it makes perfect sense why I’d like time to slow down right? Yes, this is why! Precious training time folks. Precious training time.

Of course it’s not like this race just popped up in my head this week and I decided to do it. SOB has actually been on my radar since early summer. The first hint of doing it again came when I volunteered for it in February, but I didn’t seriously entertain the idea until around June or July. And when I registered back in September, I knew I was committed to it.

A few weeks ago, as I was reading a 50 mile SOB course description – since I turned around about 15-ish miles in the last time I was there – I felt a slight twinge of anxiety creep up. It’s not like this is my first dive into the 50 mile distance. I’ve already completed two 50 milers and a 100K distance, but SOB is in a slightly different league.

While the San Diego 50 has about half the elevation gain that Sean O’Brien has for the same distance, three loops at Javelina Jundred (61-ish miles) still has less elevation gain than San Diego. So this will mark my first trip into the land of distance AND elevation gain.

But you know what? I ain’t gonna sweat it just yet. I’ll do the sweating on the trails, roads, and treadmill, but until that day arrives, I’ve got to keep focused on the current task at hand: training. I mean, why stress out over something that hasn’t happened yet?

The truth is, if I show up on race morning (operative words “show up”), and I’m not feeling up to the 50 mile distance that day, I’ll choose to drop down to the 50K distance which actually comes with its own set of positives, but right now I’m focused on the 50 miler. Besides, anything can happen in the next couple of months and I’ve got to just see how training goes for me.

Either way, regardless if it’s 50 miles, or 50K (or anywhere in between because of that lovely thing called “time cutoffs”), I have a date with Sean O’Brien, and that date is February 3, 2018.

Thanks for reading!

]]>http://www.arunningmess.com/2017/12/09/my-date-with-sean-obrien/feed/0How I Slowed Down Time While Runninghttp://www.arunningmess.com/2017/12/07/how-i-slowed-down-time/
http://www.arunningmess.com/2017/12/07/how-i-slowed-down-time/#commentsThu, 07 Dec 2017 14:00:13 +0000http://www.arunningmess.com/?p=4288In my previous post, I was basically trying to figure out how to slow down time because it never ceases to amaze me how fast time is flying by these days. Well, turns out nothing slows down time more than stepping on the treadmill, preparing to be on there for at least an hour, and you forget your phone at home which contains your music that helps you jam out and kind of forget you’re on the treadmill. This is what happened to me last Friday…the following morning after the post went out.

Now, I’m not one of those people who hate or dread the treadmill. In fact, never in my life have I ever called it a “dreadmill,” nor will I ever. I suppose I can understand people’s reasoning behind that, but if you perceive something to be dreadful, then that’s the experience you’re probably going to end up with. And that’s not how I want to live.

Yes, there are certainly things and events I will most likely dread in life, but having the ability to run on a treadmill is definitely not one of them. And if the treadmill had feelings, it probably wouldn’t appreciate my harsh negative attitude towards it when it’s there to actually help me…even if I’m not actually going anywhere.

I’m actually quite grateful for the treadmill because for one thing, I don’t have to run all alone in the darkness at 3 AM through city streets. Plus, the treadmill helps me escape scorching heat, and chilly rainy days (when those rainy days happen), and it allows me to crank up the incline to get some elevation gain without having to get on the trails.

And right now, the LA area is currently experiencing some intense Santa Ana winds and raging fires, and while I’m not in any direct path of them, the sky is still smoky and the air quality is really not something I want to be running in for any long length of time.

So you bet I’m grateful for the treadmill!

Would I want to run on it every single day? Probably not. But if it keeps me running when the conditions aren’t so favorable, then yeah, I don’t mind hopping on it.

Although I’ll be honest here, having my music and/or a podcast allows me to enjoy the monotonous motion of the ‘mill even moreso than without having some sort of musical accompaniment.

So, when I realized I forgot my phone, I could’ve asked myself: How could this happen? How am I going to survive? Should I just go back to bed?

I didn’t.

I simply said to myself: I’ve run in more challenging conditions. This is nothing. I can handle an hour on the treadmill without music.

In fact, I can handle running without music period, because I run on the trails without music all the time. So I reminded myself of this and began to visualize myself on the trails as the belt rotated swiftly under my feet. Smoothest trails I’ve ever run on! Ha!

I also reminded myself of how I wanted to try living more in the present moment, and in that present moment I had no choice but to take it one step at a time. Actually, I did have a choice, and I chose to get my run in regardless of having my music with me or not.

I’ll admit, time certainly slowed down. I was in my head more, and paid more attention to what I was doing and how I felt. I guess you could say I was being more mindful and it worked! Time slowed down! And at the end of the hour, I actually found myself enjoying being in the quiet. Slightly. I still missed my jams. But if I happen to forget my phone again and have to resort to a musicless treadmill run, then so be it. There are worse things in life for a runner, and I’d rather have a musicless treadmill run, then no run at all.

Thanks for reading!

]]>http://www.arunningmess.com/2017/12/07/how-i-slowed-down-time/feed/3Life Moves Pretty Fasthttp://www.arunningmess.com/2017/11/30/life-moves-pretty-fast/
http://www.arunningmess.com/2017/11/30/life-moves-pretty-fast/#respondThu, 30 Nov 2017 14:00:48 +0000http://www.arunningmess.com/?p=4274Well, well, well…what do we have here? Another month trying to duck past me and it thinks that I wouldn’t see it. Well, it worked because I didn’t. One day it was November 1st and the next thing I know it’s Thanksgiving, and now we’re one day away from the final month of the year!

I’m always so surprised how fast time flies by and so I recently Googled this whole “flying time” concept. Oh who am I kidding? I literally just looked it up 5 minutes before starting this post. Actually I looked up how to slow down time because nowadays I can’t seem to get a grasp on it.

One thing that resonated was trying to practice more mindfulness in our day by paying more attention and noticing what we’re doing. Basically being more in the present moment. Something tells me I haven’t been very good at that because my mind is all over the place. This could be a forewarning on how the rest of this post may go.

I know for a fact, I haven’t been living in the present moment. I’ve been in the next weekend moment, next month moment, and next year moment. Days that haven’t even happened yet, I’m thinking about. I’ve been on this go, go, go mode…and then when I stop, I’m exhausted and resort to vegging out and watching Netflix, or Hulu, or whatever programming option I have available. I tune out and then get ready for the next day and do it all over again.

Overall I’m a busy bee which is quite a contrast to how life was this time a year ago. But then again, a part of that comes down to time management and making things a priority and shelving distractions. I could sit down and write more blog posts but I don’t. Part of that stems from feeling like I really don’t have much to say. Another part of me maybe needed a break. But mostly I didn’t really have much to say, and then when I did start blog posts, I would hit writer’s block and really had no idea on where to go from where I was.

I recently attended a Friendsgiving gathering where my lovely friend Deb, kindly and graciously pointed out my lack of blog posts. She noticed, which honestly, touched my heart hearing that someone noticed. Yeah I noticed too. My days are busy, and I get that so are other people’s, but the last thing I wanted to do at the end of the day was stare at a blank screen trying to figure out what to say that wouldn’t make me sound like I was a written word jigsaw puzzle tossed out onto the table and having no idea where to start putting the pieces together. Pro tip: Gather the outside border pieces and assemble those first. But I couldn’t find my border when it came to writing.

Of course that made me feel sad at times. I’ve always found comfort and joy (Ha! A bit of holiday cheer tossed in there) writing up new posts, but just like lulls in running, my writing mojo was gone. And this is probably one reason why my mind would periodically resort to the idea of closing up shop on this blog.

But then I think, I have some lovely pictures to show of the trails! Although I suppose I could use Instagram for that. And I have words to say! Even if I don’t know exactly what those words are.

Yes, life has been busy but that doesn’t mean I’ve not been running. It’s a big part of why I have been busy. I’ve been running. I just haven’t been talking about it much. Maybe I should change that.

This is me “running.” I was actually walking so as not to be too blurry.

So as this month closes, and another one begins, I’m going to try and be more mindful of the days. I’m going to try and live more in the present moments and maybe try writing about them more. I’m going to try and slow down my mind and maybe that will help slow down time for me and December will feel like I’m running through molasses wearing 20 pound cinder blocks strapped to my feet going against 50 mph winds. Of course when I think about it, some running days do feel like that.

But now I really understand what Ferris Bueller meant when he said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.” I get it Ferris. I finally get it.

Thanks for reading.

]]>http://www.arunningmess.com/2017/11/30/life-moves-pretty-fast/feed/0Is Javelina Jundred Jaunting Me?http://www.arunningmess.com/2017/10/27/is-javelina-jundred-jaunting-me/
http://www.arunningmess.com/2017/10/27/is-javelina-jundred-jaunting-me/#commentsFri, 27 Oct 2017 12:00:15 +0000http://www.arunningmess.com/?p=4254This weekend is the Javelina Jundred (in case you’re not familiar with it, the “J” in Jundred is silent and pronounced like “H” in Hundred) and I’ve jad a teensy tiny bit of FOMO surrounding it. Of course, that feeling didn’t last long and I jave no regret over not being there and attempting the 100 miler again. Nor, is there any regret for not going for the 100K. Officially.

For much of the first jalf of this year, I actually contemplated returning to Arizona to run Javelina again. Maybe because I was constantly reminded of it practically every single day. Yep. Several times a week I’d see Arizona written somewhere.

A car would park right next to me. There it was. Arizona.

I’d come upon a car at a red light. There it was again. Arizona.

In fact, Arizona was there again, and again, and again.

Of course, one day there was a license plate with JJ in it.

How could this license plate not be about Javelina Jundred?

Not to mention that one time I was running and I ran into Jamil on the sidewalk. Jamil Coury is the race director for Javelina, and no his name isn’t pronounced Ham-il. At least I don’t believe it is.

Great! I mean, what gives? It was like Javelina Jundred was haunting me. Oops. I mean jaunting me! Everywhere!!

There were so many signs. So many reminders. I can’t take a photo every single time because it’s gotten too freakin’ ridiculous. It doesn’t let up. I still see Arizona several times a week. It’s either a sign from the Universe, or there are an enormous amount of people from Arizona moving to SoCal. I suppose it could be both.

Now it’s quite possible there have been a plethora of Arizona cars in LA prior to me doing this race and I just never noticed them before, and now I’m more sensitive, or in tune with them because I’m still on that Javelina wavelength.

Or it could be that Javelina Jundred is not over me, and wants me back.

When I finally got jonest with myself about the race, my jeart wasn’t in it this year. I gave so much of myself to it last year that I simply couldn’t get to that place again; that place where I was all-consumed by it. Now that I think about it, the race consumed my life for about a good year and a half. Mentally, I wasn’t there.

Besides it’s not a cheap race either. You got race registration fees, tent fees (if you need a tent and I did), and hotel fees if you plan on staying in one, a day or two before the race, and possibly a day afterwards. That is, if you’re coming from out of town, or in my case, out of state. Not to mention transportation and food. All good stuff. And you know, all worth it. But I didn’t want to make it a financial priority this year.

Plus, I really wanted to step back from this race to process it, and learn from it, and appreciate it for what it was.

I know there are certainly people who can experience a disappointment with a race, and dive headstrong right back into training for it again, or another race. But I couldn’t.

And I’m okay with that. In fact, I’m more than okay with that. I’m happy I didn’t jump right back into training for another 100 miler. I needed this time to step back, and rest, and be lazy, and sleep in, and let the drive come to me naturally from a place of self, and not from a place of ego. In other words, I want it to be for my own internal reasons, and not from a place as if I needed to prove anything.

And I’ve reached the point where I definitely feel like 2018 is the year to go after it again. Maybe it’s the all too familiar feeling of starting to be consumed by it again. But I feel like I’m in a better place mentally with it, which is half the battle. The physical part is obviously going to come with time, hard work, and effort. And I’ll get there.

For now, I’m just going to be cheering on those who are doing it. In fact, I know a couple of people. One of which is my friend Melody who is tackling her first 100K distance there. I know she’s ready for it and I couldn’t be more excited for her! So good luck to Melody and all the runners! And don’t forget to drink the water before you leave the aid station!

Thanks for reading!

]]>http://www.arunningmess.com/2017/10/27/is-javelina-jundred-jaunting-me/feed/6Hello Darkness, My New-ish Friendhttp://www.arunningmess.com/2017/10/11/hello-darkness-my-new-ish-friend/
http://www.arunningmess.com/2017/10/11/hello-darkness-my-new-ish-friend/#respondWed, 11 Oct 2017 13:00:05 +0000http://www.arunningmess.com/?p=4220A few weeks ago, when my friend Melody and I got together for a trail run, it was dark and we weren’t thoroughly prepared for it. Two weeks ago, we met up at a slightly earlier time and were better prepared for darkness. That is, after I dug my headlamp out of my drawer that apparently still had the batteries in it. Thank goodness those batteries worked because I don’t think I’ve used that thing since April.

But my gosh who’s idea was it for us to start at 5AM?!

Hmmm…To be honest, I believe it was a joint idea.

While I wasn’t planning on being out there as long as she was that day, we both wanted to start early, and get done early. So I say, bring on 5AM because the earlier the better! Lucky for me, she’s perfectly okay with starting just as early as I want to, and vice versa.

Aw man, I blinked.

The evening before, I did have some slight concerns regarding how I was going to feel during the run because you see, I didn’t really run much that entire week leading up to it. I ran twice for a total of eight miles, and four of those were the day before on the road. Not my best approach going into a longer run – my longest run since the end of June. But I figured if I need to slow down, I will. If I need to walk a bit more, I will. Or if I felt absolutely great and I have to leave Melody in the dust, I will. HA!

It’s easy to describe how this run started: very dark, and very quiet. While I’m not new to being on the trails when it’s dark, it’s been a long while since I’ve had that.

The trail was all ours. We talked as loud as we wanted and every time I heard something rustling in the brush, I quickly offered up a, “Good morning!” to whatever critter was trying to get in our conversation.

With a few patches of running, the first section is mostly hiking up. We reached the top and turned back around, where we had a few patches of hiking up, but it was mostly running down.

At this point, it was still dark which I didn’t mind. Well, I didn’t mind because I wasn’t alone. And knowing me, I probably wouldn’t be out there all alone at that time because I’m afraid of the dark. Actually, I’m afraid of the dark if I’m all alone, on a deserted trail, with hungry mountain lions, or coyotes, or barracudas hovering nearby. But even with others, the only thing that would give me the heebie jeebies is shining my light into the brush and possibly have a pair of glowing eyes glaring right back at me.

Melody and I continued to run down the trail and then we saw them. Two bright shining eyes, a couple of feet above the dirt approaching us. We couldn’t quite see the elongation of the body, but it was lean. And it was coming straight towards us. Those bright shining eyes bouncing up and down with its pace getting quicker by the second. And then it reached us.

“Hey sweet buddy!” We both love dogs so we didn’t mind.

Soon afterwards, the darkness began to fade away and the light started to peer out.

By the time we made our way back up the hills, we saw them clearly and I missed the dark. But it was still quiet and peaceful. Although I most likely contaminated the quietness with my singing. I had songs taking up residence in my head and they wouldn’t leave – “The Pina Colada song,” “…Baby One More Time,” and “(You Drive Me) Crazy,” which I’m sure I was making Melody crazy with my lack of singing ability.

Lucky for her, me and my singing were done after 15 miles while she carried on for another 7. That is, until the next time we ran together.

Again, we wanted to get done early, and while Melody initial threw out a 6AM or 6:30AM start, an earlier start meant an earlier finish and that was too enticing for us to pass up.

This past Sunday, we met up at zero five hundred, but this time, the moon was a bit more brighter than usual. Maybe remnants of the recent Harvest Moon. Because I anticipated the steep darkness, I also brought my handheld flashlight as extra reinforcement.

I wish that flashlight had brought me extra energy because I was tired and Melody was under the weather. We did our best and pushed through, especially between miles 8 through 12. Those may have been the toughest of our 16 miles that day. The climbing just didn’t seem to let up, and neither did my singing.

This time it was “Everybody” by the Backstreet Boys ringing through my head. Even as we made our way up the mountain, the song kept spewing out of me with no shortage of made-up lyrics.

Everybodyyy …. yeahhh …. on the trails …. yeahhh …

The irony was, there wasn’t a whole lot of everybody on the trails.

One step in front of the other, no matter how slowly was all we could do.

Maybe we were supposed to go slowly all along. The peacefulness, the views, and sunrise were just so magnificent. We could see the clouds rolling over from the Pacific Ocean. We stopped and took photos; photos that didn’t truly capture the beauty of what we saw.

There was a moment when I said, “Let’s just stop for a minute and listen because this is the quietest we’re going to have all day.” Living in a full-thriving city with constant noise is probably one big reason I love to escape to the trails.

Of course we actually joked that maybe we shouldn’t advertise how beautifully gorgeous this run was, or else everybody (yeahhh …) would be out there and it would get extremely crowded and we wouldn’t have any room to move. Okay, that probably wouldn’t happen. Because in order to do so, people would need to be out on the trails early and in the darkness to experience it, and not many people want to do that. And that’s perfectly fine by me.